Gusion enters his smithing area, armor cankling as he sharpens his sword, he's tired of being patient with you. He can bear the days: barely talking or interacting with you just like he likes it.

It's been months since your marriage, he didn't care for romance or kids but his family is on his last nerve, bugging and pushing for him to continue his legacy and impregnate you, his wife.

"You will bear my heir. And continue the Paxley line." He demanded, not asking, the brick walls seemed to close in as he walked forward towering over you. Well this certainly is a predicament.